


Text Talk

by Smushed



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Almost Kiss, Angst, Denial, Developing Relationship, Eventual Smut, First Time, Gay Chicken, M/M, Secret Relationship, Sexting, Slow Burn, Texting, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Unspoken relationship, almost getting caught, unacknowledged relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-02-10 13:23:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18661276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smushed/pseuds/Smushed
Summary: Morty is in too deep and has become addicted to texting. It's escalating, it's bleeding into every day life and it's hard to tell what's real or just a game.How far will it go?





	1. Overstepped The Mark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GhostyGooGirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostyGooGirl/gifts).



> For GhostyGooGirl <3 Thank you for being such an inspiration!

Anticipating the ping of a mobile phone, or the gentle patterned buzz of it in a pocket, was a sensation that the majority of teenagers thrived for. A mini high that lasted as long as the notification sound.

To Morty Smith, it was a brand new excitement.

With only a very minimal amount of contacts in his phone, and most if not all of them being _family,_ it was no surprise he had never really had that typical teenage thrill when receiving a text.

Until now. The past week and a half he had been at his phone's beck and call, and after the eye rolls and criticism at Summer’s excessive use of her mobile, he was now debatably worse.

 

**Oh yeah? You're gonna have to elaborate, Morty. Texts don't carry the intention the way words or facial expressions do.**

 

“Oh, jeez.” Morty murmured as he stared at his screen. Flirting was definitely high on the list of things he was _not_ _good_ at. It was hard to believe that it was happening, and if he was honest with himself, not only did he feel _way_ out of his league but he was enjoying every naughty feeling more than he should have.

Morty always knew he was a little freak, deep down. Being abnormal was obvious by his lack of popularity in the school yard. It was hard to determine whether he was boring or just plain odd.  As he grew older, loneliness became a companion. Growing up meant becoming aware of his parents’ bullshit, which in turn lead him to safely distance himself away from being friends with his dad. The memory that once upon a time Morty had clung on so tightly to his father growing up made him cringe now, knowing how pathetic he could be. His mom was no better really, in her own ways.

Oh how things change.

 

**Morty: You know… When you took off your sweater today. It was cool.**

 

Morty cringed at his own reply and watched the ellipsis dance as a response was being typed, his heart seemed to dance with it, and in no time at all, there it was, the bubble of text popping up, just for him.

 

**Cool? Is that another word for sexy?**

 

Morty groaned and chewed his lower lip. He tried very carefully to think of what to type. Every single one of his nerves was being danced on like fingertips on a keyboard. He was feeling far too many emotions for something as simple as a text message, he knew it couldn’t be a good thing, if anything it was avidly _bad_.

He was toeing a line here, and it was _not_ a fine one, it was a meter thick and he was leaping right over without a single fuck. _Won’t grandpa be proud._ Morty typed out his response and hit send as quickly as he could before he could change his mind. His heart was in his throat and _whatthefuckamidoing_ was on his exhale, the ‘ _whoop’_ noise sounded as it sent anyway. Morty watched with morbid curiosity as it went from sent, to read within _moments._

 

**Morty: yeah. I meant it was sexy**

 

Oh Christ, oh god. Morty stared at his message horrified that he sent it. Who started this? Did it matter? What if Morty was disgusting and was just being politely entertained? What if that line he flung himself over was a complete no-go, and he'd ruined everything?

When a reply didn't come right away, like they usually did, he tossed his phone aside and sat with his head in his hands at end of his bed. The urge to grab at his phone and try and rectify it rose up in the teen but he really didn't want to look pathetic. He left it there face down on his bed. He couldn't even bear to see what the reply was going to be anyway, a gentle let down, a harsh one?

Fuck that.

“Morty! Dinner!”

Saved by the bell. Sort of. Morty got up, took one more glance at his phone laying sad and alone and decided that yes, he was definitely best left in the dark at what response his lame text would elicit. Going back to how things used to be, when he only had to charge his phone every couple of days instead of every night (or sometimes even a top up charge in the day) wouldn't be too bad.

Maybe he should have nipped it in the bud the day he started getting butterflies when he received these messages. This was the wake up call he needed to stop. He closed his bedroom door on his phone and went downstairs, feeling simultaneously liberated and anxious without it. The freedom of not anticipating a message was glorious but the potential that he was missing out on something was torturous.

Dinner was a good distraction. Spaghetti, a nice, _normal_ dinner, Morty thought contentedly. Only normal things from here on out, no more lines to cross, time to come right back into his box he got brave to go outside of.

He had blinders on this evening, the family around the table making small talk and continuing like normal helped Morty think about other, _normal_ things. Did he have chemistry tomorrow? Maybe he had math with Jessica. He couldn't even really remember what day it was, was it Tuesday? No, it was Wednesday, he skipped a day in his mind because of the adventure, skipping school for an adventure always skewed his calendar.

Morty turned to his grandpa, wondering if he was maimed from said adventure and giving him a once over. It was the first time he had the courage to look at Rick since the ship parked in the garage. His clothes seemed in tact besides a slight singe on the bottom of his teal sweater. Rick caught him with a slow raise of his inquiring brow and a side glance… Was that a smile? Morty frowned. Was Rick _smirking_?

Rick stabbed his fork on his plate and twirled a forkful of spaghetti onto it, maintaining side eyes with Morty the whole time. There was something mesmerising about the way Rick was moving, and Morty watched as his grandpa lifted his fork to his mouth. Without even attempting to open his mouth for the food to go in, Rick, like some sort of psychopath, made full eye contact with Morty as he purposely threw the spaghetti onto his sweater.

Morty's eyes widened, alarm bells ringing his head, was this real, was this happening, did he really just-- on _purpose?!_

“Oh, no.” Rick sighed dramatically, scooting his chair back from under the table. Rick tutted and stood up, lifting his sweater over his head _right there, right fucking there,_  Morty had to snap his eyes away and back to his plate, his peripherals caught Rick walking towards the garage. 

Okay, okay, so _that happened._ Coincidence? Maybe it was a coincidence. That Rick threw his spaghetti all over himself? Morty fisted his own hair as he played with his food on the plate. He's gone now anyway, _don't think about it._

“Ugh, _Rick,_ can you put on some more clothes at the dinner table please?” Jerry said please but the tone was missing all manners, Morty's head shot up again to watch Rick walk around the dinner table and wink at Morty. 

“How about you fuck yourself, Jerry, how's that sound?” Rick commented as he sat back down. “This spaghetti is too good to miss! Thank you, Sweetie.” He added with glee, buttering Beth up perfectly past his sniping comment to her husband. Not that it took that much effort for Beth to forgive her father.

Morty barely managed to eat any more, the rest of the family casually bickered like most school nights but Morty's mind was too hyper aware of Rick next to him. He couldn’t look. His peripheral vision could see Rick’s arms flexing as he ate, it was weird to see so much of Rick’s skin on show. Morty spotted Rick taking out his phone and typing. The teen had never regret something more in his life than leaving his phone in his room and he was kicking himself for it now.

Once dinner was over Morty was the fastest he had ever been to doing the dishes, any excuse to finish up and get back to his room without being delayed. The prospect of his phone was now burning in the back of his head. He hated the sauce pan, the sauce always covered on the top edges and burned in. He was scrubbing at this when Rick waltzed into the kitchen to get a beer from the fridge. Morty slowed to a stop with his hands in the water, unmoving as though Rick couldn't see him if he kept still. To no avail because Rick walked over to him with a beer in hand, Morty held his breath as Rick was so close, the teen got an eyeful of his showing collar bones as his grandfather dipped a hand in the water. Morty jolted when their hands brushed but after a second Rick procured the bottle opener from the bottom of the dish bowl and wiggled it in the air.

“Jumpy today, huh, Morty?” Rick commented, cracking open his beer and wondering back to the living room.

Morty darted up the stairs after washing the dishes and dived for his phone.

_New Message from Grandpa Rick_

 

**Rick: like this?**

 

Morty's heart was pounding into his ears, _sent at 6:05pm,_ that was the text from the dinner table. He held his breath as he stared at the message. That meant that Rick did it all intentionally, with purpose, because _Morty_ thought he was _sexy?_

Holy fuck, what had he started? There was no denying that he loved it, whatever it was. If he left it, and didn't reply, that would be the end of that. No more, that would put a full stop to it, because Rick wouldn't entertain the idea at all if Morty ignored him. So why on earth _wouldn't_ he reply?

 

**Morty: yeah, just like that.**

 

Morty stared at the screen as he watched the little ticks indicate Rick read his message, holding onto his phone tightly as the ellipsis danced.

 

**Rick: I need to hear you say that aloud some time**

 

_Fuck._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Kiss It Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morty felt a phantom vibrate in his jeans pocket all lesson. He kept slyly pulling out his phone to check on it, and each time was met with nothing. He kept it in his hand instead, so he could determine whether it was just his mind playing tricks on him, but even in his hand he kept lighting the screen to check if he had a text.

**Rick: You can't complain about school to me when I’ve told you how much I hate it**

 

**Morty: I'm just venting, the day should get better, I have math soon**

 

**Rick: What's so good about math?**

 

Morty stared at his phone. What _was_ good about it? Jessica. Was that… Was that a thing he could tell Rick about? Well, Rick already knew about his crush, in fact his grandpa mentioned it regularly. Wanting Morty to be Adam and Jessica to be Eve was a drunken ramble that the teen could never forget. Besides, Rick and Morty weren't exactly a ‘thing’, that thought alone was too vastly complex to dwell on.

When he really thought about it, his interest in Jessica took a huge back seat recently anyway, in comparison to his recent communications with Rick. She wasn't eliciting even half the response she used to within the teen. Which raised the question, did he want Rick to know how much texting him meant right now? He'd probably be an asshole about it.

 

**Morty: Jessica sits in front of me**

  


**.** . .       . **.** .      . . **.**

  


Nothing. Rick stopped typing and didn't text back, Morty tried with all his might not to be disappointed. He didn't exactly leave much wiggle room for conversation. He pocketed his phone, took a seat and pretended to listen to Mr Goldenfold.

Morty felt a phantom vibrate in his jeans pocket all lesson. He kept slyly pulling out his phone to check on it, and each time was met with nothing. He kept it in his hand instead, so he could determine whether it was just his mind playing tricks on him, but even in his hand he kept lighting the screen to check if he had a text.

In fact, he checked his phone so frequently he didn't even notice Jessica. Morty caved and text again.

**  
Morty: Can we go on an adventure today?**

 

**Rick: Maybe tomorrow. Wouldn't want you to miss too much school.**

 

**Morty: Jeez Rick since when did you give a shit if I missed school?**

 

**Rick: I don't**

 

Morty’s thumbs automatically typed: ‘then stop being an asshole’ but he stopped halfway and deleted it. Rick was being purposely obtuse. He scrolled back up and reread the texts from the other day. _I need to hear you say that aloud some time._ ‘Need’ was the word that stuck out to Morty, Rick Sanchez didn't _need_ anything, but then again it was just a text, he could well be reading too much into it.

Morty wondered how he managed to fuck this up so badly already, he was just desperate to get playful inappropriate Rick like he had the other day. What did he fuck up? He scrolled through and reread his conversation again and again, like a coconut on his head, he realised. Was Rick _jealous?_ Of Jessica? No fucking way. Morty was going to have to take another leap of faith somehow.

Amongst the bustle of students walking to their next class, he quickly pulled up his front camera and took a picture of himself with his eyes closed pulling a comical face of despair. He captioned it _‘currently dying of boredom’_ and sent it to Rick. A tick, two ticks for sent, he waited for them to change colour to show Rick had read them and then saw black stars in his vision.

The world did a full 360 rotation for a split second before a sharp throb spread from his temple across his forehead. He quickly tried to gather his bearings and caught two jocks from the year above laughing as they passed.

_“Who the fuck is Morty Smith Snapchatting, Bro?!”_

_“Probably his Mom, hahaha!”_

_“The pet dog more like!”_

_“—Literally the biggest loser, man! What happened to Tiny Rick?”_

Cool adrenaline flooded his system and dissipated just as quickly once he realised he wasn't in immediate, _real_ danger. Though this wasn't the bone chilling terror that Morty experienced frequently on adventures, it was considerably worse. There were no rewards for surviving a high school bully, only humiliation. He tsked as he picked up his phone. The top left corner had a long crack going diagonally across the screen, and Rick had read his message and not replied. He switched it off and went about trying to focus on the day ahead instead of the swelling threat of lonely embarrassment that started to creep up on him.

 

*

 

Morty could feel Rick's eyes bearing on him at the dinner table. He had checked his head in the mirror at school and there was only a mild red mark, no noticeable swelling or bruising to be seen, but Rick was perceptive (when he wanted to be). Morty had had time to think about his feelings, and really, it was kinda _sad_ that the person he looked forward to hearing from more than anyone else in the world was his own grandfather.

More than that, he looked forward to _flirting with him._  Although it had only happened properly, (undeniably), _once_ , since it happened it was all he could think about. Morty had been striving to be in the receiving end of Rick's attention, why? It was probably a one off, anyway. It meant nothing to the drunk scientist compared to what it did to Morty. Attention, to be wanted on a level he couldn’t fathom. Morty considered himself so passively invisible that he couldn’t really even imagine someone wanting to dedicate themselves to him in that way. Though texts were frowned upon for their lack of face to face interaction, they were physical evidence that someone gave a shit. Morty re-read the texts Rick send him an _embarrassing_ amount of times, it was beyond his comprehension that the most intelligent being in the galaxy would entertain him.

After doing the dishes again, the family filtered away from the table to shut themselves out as per the usual school night and the teen was halfway up the stairs when Rick caught him through the banister.

“What's up with your phone?”

“Oh… Uh, i-it broke.” Morty shrugged and tossed it down the stairs to Rick from his pocket, Rick caught it one handed and pinched the corner of his mouth as he frowned at it. How did Rick know something was up? Morty half hoped the old man had been keeping tabs on whether Morty was online or not, but stomped that hope right back down where it belonged.

“I-I can fix that in t- _OUGH-_ two minutes, no problem. Come watch TV.”

Morty sighed and followed Rick back down the stairs and to the sofa, sitting on the right side while Rick perched to the left like usual. When the phone came on without protest Morty saw Rick's shoulders sink in his peripheral, he tried to ignore it. Morty figured he had been reading into Rick's body language far too much recently, there was no way that could have been disappointment. The old man started tinkering with the screen as Morty flicked through the channels; he settled on watching a rerun of Ball Fondlers.

As promised, it took Rick minutes. He tossed Morty his phone back and the teen caught it against his chest. Impressive really, Morty saw his screen looked even better than it did before.

“Th-thank you, Rick.”

“Don't mention it.”

Morty waited a moment, battling his doubt before that haunting feeling of _missing out_ made him cave. He went to his messages and his belly sank as his heart rose into his mouth.

Rick had sent a picture back, he was sat in the garage with his fist under his chin but his middle finger stuck out along his cheek, the caption said _‘currently dying of listening to your whining’._

It was a reply, a thought out one, Rick hadn't ignored him. But what made Morty choke on air was the picture beneath it. Rick with his sweater off, and _no vest under it._  The old man was topless. Rick had taken the picture landscape and the way he took the picture caught his arms and chest perfectly, expertly cutting the top of his head and the waist out.

Oh that bastard knew what he was doing. Rick was looking away from the camera, just off the side, his expression was _different._ Morty couldn't put his finger on what exactly, but he stared for a long while. Rick's torso was surprisingly lean for his age, and with a physical picture Morty unabashedly memorised it. Of course they had both seen eachother naked, many times, but never like this with these implications. The way Rick's pale skin clung to his muscle, the deep shadow where his jugular notch indented, the curves of Rick's deltoids rising and dipping to his pectorals like the ocean. Morty was dying.  


**Rick: How about a different type of adventure?**

 

Morty could hardly breathe as he looked at Rick on the other side of the sofa, pretending to watch the TV.

 

**Morty: What did you have in mind Rick?**

 

Rick's phone pinged, Morty jumped at the sound and watched as his grandpa switched it onto silent without sparing a glance over. There was something utterly mesmerising about watching Rick actually type instead of the ellipsis. He was wearing his sweater now, so when Morty didn't reply he must have put it back on. _Had Rick been waiting around for him to reply?_

 

**Rick: How about a game?**

 

**Morty: OK…**

 

**Rick: How much would it take to make you leave the room?**

 

**Morty: Why would I leave the room?**

 

**Rick: Your mom is gonna come watch TV**

 

**Morty: That doesn't answer the question though lol**

 

**Rick: I want to tell you about how fucking cute you looked when I took sweater off the other day.**

 

Morty slammed his phone into his lap as his mom walked in front them like she could see the message through the back of his phone. She took a seat on the chair, glass of wine in hand. Morty quickly turned his brightness down and went to turn his font settings to the smallest it could go. He was trying so hard to keep still and not let those butterflies ignite a readable expression on his face.

 

**Morty: I'm not cute**

 

**Rick: You are a lot of things Morty. That's just one of them**

 

**Morty: Jeez Rick why are you telling me that now**

 

**Rick: You said I looked sexy, I'm just returning the favour.**

 

 **Morty: Yeah but you** **_are_ ** **sexy**

 

 **Rick: And you** **_are_ ** **cute as fuck. I want to see that face do a lot of things, Morty.**

 

 _Fuck._ Morty held his breath. His mom was _right there._

“Haven’t we seen this movie before?” Beth asked, sipping her wine and looking across at the two on the sofa. “You aren’t even watching, you’re both on your phones! Pass the remote.”

Morty passed her the control and waited for a moment before he turned his phone screen on. After a torturous few minutes he went to carefully type a response. Morty was very aware that he could ruin all this somehow, if he said the wrong thing or Rick changed his mind rapidly (like he did so often) he knew he would be devastated.

 

**Morty: Like what?**

 

**Rick: What, do you need me to spell it out?**

 

Morty smirked wide, he scrolled up and copy pasted Rick's message to him from days ago, changing it a slight.

 

 **Morty:** **You're gonna have to elaborate, Rick. Texts don't carry the intention the way words or facial expressions do.**

 

Rick looked up from his phone and caught Morty's eyes, glanced at his smile and returned it with a small sigh.

 

**Rick: Touché, you little shit.**

 

Morty had to try and stop himself from vibrating with silent laughter, he clutched his phone to his chest as he watched Rick try and keep a straight neutral face, and just as though Rick wanted to knock Morty down a peg or two for getting cocky, he sent another message.

 

**Rick: I wonder if you'd still have that smug look on your face if I kissed you**

 

Morty's heart started to hammer, _hard._ Rick really was interested in him, in _that way_. What the fuck, what the fuck, what the _fuck_.

 

**Morty: You want to kiss me? Like, what type of kiss?**

 

**Rick: The real Sanchez type, Morty. You wouldn’t even be able to cope.**

 

**Morty: I want you to**

 

**Rick: While your mom is there?**

 

Morty physically stiffened and looked over at her, he kicked his feet up onto the sofa and brought his knees up, almost cocooning his phone and himself. He was so tempted to kick his grandpa for having the audacity, for being so brazen and cheeky.

 

**Morty: NO!**

 

Rick quirked a brow and licked his lips, Morty watched intently at the old man above his knees and then felt his phone vibrate in his hands.

 

**Rick: you're gonna lose the game**

 

**Morty: You wouldn't.**

 

**Rick: Is that a dare?**

 

**Morty: RICK NO**

 

**Rick: You asked for it**

 

Morty watched as Rick put his phone in his pocket before he glued his eyes to his phone screen with nerves. He watched his grandpa in his peripheral get up off the couch and walk towards him. Morty felt every one of his tendons tighten in anticipation, his whole belly felt heavier than a tonne but soared with the sheer amount of butterflies swarming him down to his fingertips and toes.

“I'm gonna-gonna get a beer.” Rick craned down and blocked the TV fully, the light blocked with his grandpa right in front of him, Morty had no choice but to look at him properly. The electricity Morty felt between them had his body reacting like it did on adventures, Rick met Morty’s eyes and the inkling of a smile in the corners of his mouth were outrageously attractive.

“You alright, kiddo?” Rick asked, this time the smile crept onto his face, mischievous and wholly addictive with the way he seemed to drink Morty in. Rick let his lips rest gently but very pointedly against his head, right where it got thumped into the locker at school. “Hope your head feels okay.”

Beth frowned and looked over, missing the peck but catching Rick’s comment, her eyes followed him going into the kitchen. Morty felt the cool spot where Rick’s wet mouth was a second ago, and he couldn’t breathe.

“What happened to your head, Morty?” His Mom asked. The teen looked over at her with wide eyes, and he thanked whatever entity was out there for it getting dark because his face felt like fire.

“O-oh- I-I-I, uh- I just- hit my head on a locker--” Morty stammered quietly. “I-it’s nothing, I swear.”

“Ooohkay,” Beth sing-songed, unconvinced.

Come to think of it, the headache and throb of his minor injury felt better. That lame idea that a kiss to a boo-boo could cure it as a kid came to Morty like some over romanticized fucked up Westermarck placebo, _his grandfather kissed it better_. His phone vibrated again.  


**Rick: there's more where that came from if you come into the kitchen**

 

Oh shit oh shit oh shit, Morty's body automatically started to take a response to Rick's advances and the teen leapt up and dashed to his room. He slammed his door and whipped out his phone.

 

**Morty: ok ok. You win**

 

He was panting as he adjusted his jeans. Holy shit. What had he started?

Two things were stopping him from jumping on this opportunity.

  1. His family. What in the ever loving fuck would he even do if they ever found out?
  2. Utter embarrassment at his lack of experience compared to Rick. What if Morty tried to be intimate with the old man and he laughed his ass into an early grave at how weak his performance was? Rick wouldn't hesitate to ridicule him, deserved or not.



But fuck if he wasn't more turned on than he had ever been in his whole life.

 

**Rick: that really is a shame**

 

**Morty: I couldn't sit next to my mom like this!**

 

**Rick: but you could sit next to your grandpa?**

 

Fuck it. He was going to hell anyway.

 

**Morty: I could sit in your lap next time if you wanted**

 

**Rick: I dare you**

  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Wax Lyrical

Morty was a deer in headlights, a rabbit gauging how close that hawk was swooping down to devour him, lost in space and time, where the fuck were those Schrodinger's cats?

His limbs were frozen as he stood silently, watching Rick at his work bench. The old man had divulged himself of his lab coat and sweater (a favourite party trick of his recently) and hadn't noticed Morty stood there. It was late, just gone 1:30am to be more precise, and Morty hadn't really been able to sleep since Rick had stopped messaging him at 9pm.

He supposed, _this_ was why.

Rick's shoulders were moving in an undeniable way. Morty had been listing every other possibility it could be in his mind and now he was running out of ideas.

Maybe Rick was just scratching his leg? Tinkering with an experiment? (The most likely option, though Rick is _far_ more precise than that, this was too _rigorous_.) Sanding wood? Maybe chopping grapes? Popping bubble wrap?

Rick sucked in a long breath through his teeth and exhaled with a low growl: “Ohh, _yeah…_ Thaaat's it.”

Fuck. The colour drained from Morty's face, he had been stood there for _far_ too long to justify it now, he had been staring, observing, analysing and now, _perving._ Oh _jeez._

Morty didn't mean to be a weird little pervert, he honestly didn't but when Rick started erratically breathing his eyes widened in his skull. He had to _do_ something to let Rick know he was there or forever be mocked for spying.

“Uhhh-” Morty’s mouth didn't even move as the sound escaped him, jaw still slack from the moment he realised what Rick was doing.

He expected the old man to stumble over a stutter, quickly put himself away, gasp and yell, curse and tell him to fuck off, but Rick just turned his head with that cocked eyebrow and grinned.

“Know what today is, Morty?” Rick’s elbow and shoulder were still sequentially moving as he spoke. It made Morty's mouth dry and his whole being was shuddering at Rick's expression.

Morty didn't even want to guess, but he couldn't stay, his unwanted erection (but so _very_ _unavoidable_ , just look at the way the muscle is twitching by Rick's jaw and the glint in his eyes) made him want to bury himself alive. Rick _carried on. “C’mon, Morty,_ take a guess.”

He opened and closed his mouth a few times before he pinched his lips shut as Rick’s eyes flickered to Morty’s groin.

“I-i-i-is it, are we…? I-“ Morty was glitching out, fading in and out of rational thoughts or reason, maybe he was dreaming. Did Rick- was he really initiating something?

“Don’t have a crap attack, Morty.” Rick spun on his stool and the teen clenched his fists by his sides only to near faint at the last thing on his mind, the first thing being too embarrassing to say aloud. Rick was holding a brass statue in his lap and he was polishing it. “It’s maintenance day, look how shiny this baby is! I-I concocted my own polish with Gazorpian wax, those sassy bitches know their shit about polishing up ornaments.”

Morty wasn't ready. Not for maintenance day, not like this.

Since the Meeseeks-gate, Rick had reserved one day a year to fix everyone's ‘stupid menial problems’. Without anyone saying it out loud it was obvious that Beth was happy that her dad did ‘dad-like’ things around the house. It brought to her a strange sense of family and watered down her wine with nostalgia as she thought about happier times from when she was really young. This lead to Jerry keeping his mouth mostly shut around her but puffing out his feathers at how Rick would re-do a lot of the D.I.Y. he had worked hard on ‘all year round’. (“No offense, _Jerry._ You repointed the house to the point where it would have been better to just throw it at the bricks a-a-and hope for the best. Do us all a favour stop taking this personally. By the way, what the _fuck_ have you done to the plumbing under here? A well trained dog could have done this!”)

Summer stayed out of the way, the politics surrounding Maintenance Day was too much drama, Morty on the other hand, he usually liked to help. Instead of passing Rick screwdrivers, it tended to be beers from the fridge and lending an ear to listen to his grandpa complain all day about how terrible a job Jerry had done to the house.

If it was Maintenance Day, he was certainly going to need more sleep.

The teen closed his eyes and imagined that when Rick spun around, it was his _cock_ he was holding as he looked Morty up and down. This was the first time Morty freely pictured it without guilt, he imagined that Rick really _was_ jerking off. He mimicked the action on himself, a fluid movement from Morty's shoulder to his elbow then wrist, his slick hand gliding up and down his length- he unabashedly jerked off as he thought about his grandpa, it was the only way he was going to get through the day, the only fucking way, let it out now, let it _alllll_ out.

Morty sighed long and hard as he spurted his orgasm onto his hand, gently coaxing out his come with gentle oversensitive pumps, letting the orgasm fizzle into his being and dissipate to leave him boneless and a lot less frustrated.

When Morty woke up, he was refreshed. After a nice shower he skipped down the stairs and noticed [ music ](https://open.spotify.com/track/2nFcUoS9qyi4sZ8N2oeTCJ) could be heard in the backyard, and above it, Rick's voice _singing._

Morty grabbed a piece of toast and went out to check where it was coming from, Rick was outside in the backyard, he was on his knees fixing the lawn mower.

“—e v e rything, groovy. _Wild thing—_ dah dah, dahdahh dah dahh, wild thing, I think I _love_ you, but I wanna know for sure! Come on, hold me tight dahdahdahdahhh. I love you-”

Rick’s voice was a sloping gritty melody, matching the pitch and tone of the song perfectly but sounding so entirely Rick at the same time.

“Hey Rick.” Morty accidentally spoke perfectly on the gap in the music he was genuinely smiling at Rick's pleasant mood and the relaxed singing. It was a contagious aura, Morty tried not to dwell too much about the lyrics, one of those stupid coincidences that if he thought about too much would drive him crazy.

“Mooo- _ough-_ rty, finally up. Pass me the screwdriver.”

“Oh, uhh, yeah, sure.” Morty saw it on the ground just out of Rick's reach and picked it up to hand it over. Rick swiped it from him and finished putting the casing back on the lawn mower, the teen watched with interest as Rick finished humming the music. “Where's the music coming from, Rick?”

“This baby,” Rick pointed to his belt and it just looked like an average Bluetooth speaker attached to the belt loop of his trousers with a carabiner clip.

“Oh, that’s kinda cool.”

As Morty saw the sound turn up without Rick even touching it, Jerry came out into the backyard and as Rick’s eyes flicked up to see his son-in-law the song cut from Wild Thing to [ Loser ](https://open.spotify.com/track/5NTZM8YYeKM2YsGSffVIge) by Beck. Rick looked at Morty with a quirked brow before he sighed and resumed assembling the lawnmower.

Jerry looked utterly deflated at how much Rick had accomplished in such a short time, he had nothing to do for the day and everything he had done this year at home while he hadn't been working was essentially pointless. Rick had stumped him as a useful functioning member of the family, and it wasn’t hard to see why Jerry was insecure.

 

_I_ _'m a loser babyyyy, so why don't ya kill me._

 

“Hey dad.” Morty considered the sudden change in music, did that mean he could think too much about the lyrics now?

The teen went back inside with his dad, offering a weak comforting smile as Jerry went to watch TV (no doubt to call Taddy Mason or something else, because who else can he complain about Rick to?). Morty came back out with a beer from the back of the fridge for Rick. It was sunny out and getting warm, Rick gratefully took the cold beer, and cracked it open right away. Morty brought his phone out and sent a message.  


**Morty: Are you changing the music with your mind somehow?**

 

He glanced up, Rick was still cleaning the lawn mower.

 

**Morty: Are the songs relevant to your thoughts?**

 

"I-if you're texting me, Morty, my phone is in the garage. Got too much shit to do to text back today, but if you get your thumbs off the screen you can gimmie a hand to speed things up, maybe then I'll get a chance to read 'em."

Morty bristled but nodded, any opportunity to get their texting again had him working harder than he cared to admit. The day unraveled from there, he didn't get an answer to his questions, partly because he was too scared to ask them aloud, mostly because he was too scared to find out the answer ( _you make my heart sing)_.

Morty had learned the vast differences between his and Rick’s interactions in real life and through text messages over the past few weeks. Real life held _normalcy,_ a sense of concrete reality and standards that kept their behaviour neatly in place (besides the cheeky kiss to Morty’s head that time). Text messages were a safe space that removed Morty's mild speech impediment and empowered him, he was honest with Rick and himself and he felt wanted.

Whenever Rick mentioned their texts in real life, even obscurely, it connected a bridge between the stark reality of day to day living and the fantasy in their texts, it felt like it made the ethereal messages threaten to bloom into the physical world somehow.

Morty suspected he was right about the song choices as the day progressed. They were knocking nails into wood to the beat of _London Calling_ when Morty figured out that it wasn't just lyrics but the beat of a song that was relevant to what they were doing, he still couldn't quite determine a pattern to what made Rick change song. Morty contemplated testing it to see, but did he really want to know what made Rick tick? The prospect of discovering the workings of Rick's mind was frightening, Morty was content to just have a small glimpse of his gargantuan mind based on what the old bastard would let him see, for now.

Finally in the garage, Rick checked his phone. Morty quickly stole a glance at his own to see the messages had finally been read, and as he looked up Rick picked up a cloth to clean his hands down and smiled at the teen. The song finally changed to [ _Blondie_ ](https://open.spotify.com/track/4qO03RMQm88DdpTJcxlglY) _._

Rick was kind of sweet when he wanted to be, in his own parodic way. The song made Morty a little giddy, Rick had read the texts as promised and the song was that little bridge that the teen had been watching Rick construct between their messages and reality. It gave him those butterflies that he felt when he received a text, a sensation that was overcoming him more frequently.

_  
Call me! On the line, call me, call me any, anytime! _

  
"Oh… haha."

"You wanna try it?" Rick gestured to the speaker on his hip.

"Uhh… I-I dunno, Rick. My music taste isn't as good as yours—"

"Here, just try it." Rick walked up to Morty and took something from behind his ear, it was a tiny sticky dot. Before the teen could react, Rick reached behind Morty's ear and clicked it into place. "See what songs you come up with."

Morty tried to empty his mind, steadfast. Don't think about it. _Don't think about any music, no songs, no jingles, nothing._ It was strange, this was the first period of silence all day, Rick had kept a steady playlist going with whatever the hell he had been thinking of and Morty noticed he even looked _surprised_ that he managed to not have any songs on at all.

 _Mind blank. No songs. No music._ Rick shrugged and spun on his heel to walk back towards his booze cabinet, Morty's eyes wandered along Rick's lean frame. His grandpa's gait was elegant as it was full of his attitude and—

[ _  
There he goes, my baby walks so slow, _ ](https://open.spotify.com/track/01Q5hCdC6kJZ08jxbSYuOt)

  
"Fuck." Morty cursed.

_  
sexual tic-tac-toe yeah I know we both know it isn't time, no, but could you be m-mine? _

Morty’s eyes pinged to the speaker on Rick's belt loop and he bolted for it, he went to grab it but in the space between the song beginning and Morty swearing, Rick had unclipped it and pulled the speaker up over his head.

"Ohhh what's this song, huh, Morty? I-I've never heard of it—"

Rick was listening to it with a wide smirk and Morty was reaching up for the speaker as his face started _glowing_ with embarrassment. Rick's eyes followed Morty's hand and he side eyed Morty with a wider smile as he realised the teen couldn't reach. Morty's body leaned into Rick's in his effort, tip toeing only allowed him to graze Rick's wrist with his fingers. Fuck Rick's height! Fuck him for placing the dot behind his ear— _wait!_

 

 _Oh baby, lights on  
_ _But your mom's not home_

 

Oh, god! How did it clip off? Morty stumbled backwards, it wasn't peeling, was there a switch?

"Morty, stop!"

 

_I'm sick of laying down alone hey_   
_With this fever, fever, yeah_   
_My one and own_   
_I wanna get you alone  
Give you a fever—_

Morty ripped it from behind his ear and yelped, it hurt like a bitch and Rick stared at him, horrified. The speaker stopped and the silence was thicker than the music had been.

"Jeez, Morty! I-i-it's not a big deal."

"It is, Rick! Y-y-you were—that's like being in my head! What the hell!"

"It's a basic design, Morty! If you'd have just peeled it off gently like a normal human it would have come right off!"

Morty looked at his hand and the small white tab sat in the middle of his palm had blood on it, how, when it didn't hurt putting it on? The adrenaline and embarrassment flooded his system and somehow seeing the blood made his mind elevate away from the situation, his hand seemed to look higher and higher away from the garage floor that was stretching out away from him. _Panic._ That's what this was, but _why—_

Morty looked up and Rick was right there, his face tilted and brows upturned as he held Morty by the neck.

"Rick?" Morty's voice sounded so distant, like it wasn't coming from him. He felt Rick gently rub his neck with his thumb, Morty watched as those bright eyes looked at his neck to his mouth then his eyes, time seemed so _slow_. Rick stepped away and showed Morty the blood on his thumb and tutted, time swirled back into full speed.

"So careless, you lil shit!"

Rick turned away from Morty and went to look for something and Morty couldn't bear it, couldn't stand that Rick had just leaned on his mind so carelessly like piano keys and was just going to dismiss it all. The teen left the garage, and if Rick shouted him, he didn't hear because a high pitched ringing had been swelling in Morty's ears since the song stopped playing.

 

*

 

**Rick: Hey**

 

Morty read the small talk and scoffed.

 

**Rick: What was that song earlier?**

 

**Morty: Why**

 

**Rick: I liked it**

 

**Morty: Yeah? I’ve never heard you listen to any songs that sound like that**

 

**Rick: I liked the lyrics.**

 

**Morty: Since when did lyrics matter to you?**

 

**Rick: Of course they do, Morty!**

 

**Morty: It’s called Fever by Adam Lambert**

 

The dots popped up on screen as Morty was composing his next message, but he hit send before Rick could send his.

 

**Morty: I dunno if I can take it anymore Rick. Texting and stuff, it's confusing**

 

**Rick: Do you want to stop?**

 

**Morty: No I don't want to but I don't think I can do it anymore. Being completely normal in real life when we are texting this… stuff. It’s horrible. I think I’m going insane**

 

**Rick: Texting is real life, what do you mean?**

 

**Morty: Just because we don’t say or do stuff to each other face to face. We just… text it**

 

**Rick: Do you want me to do stuff to you in real life? Last time you freaked out when I kissed your head, I thought you weren’t into it**

 

Oh fuck, oh shit, fuck, _he was asking._

 

**Morty: I only freaked out because Mom was there**

 

**Rick: Where’s your sense of adventure? ;)**

 

**Morty: It wasn’t exactly subtle, Rick!**

 

**Rick: I’ve got an idea, it’s more ‘subtle’ but I don’t know if you’ll be able to hack it, Morty. You’re too chicken**

 

**Morty: Will it be right in front of everyone?**

 

**Rick: Depends on how you look at it, but I promise you’ll like it**

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I'm hoping for a multi-chapter edge sesh for you guys. I love this shipping community so much, thank you for reading! Comments always appreciated!


End file.
